


A Peredhel Family Christmas

by thegreatpumpkin



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Scruffy teenage Estel is my fave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5536793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/thegreatpumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Estel celebrates Christmas with his foster family, and finally starts to feel at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Peredhel Family Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the [Heart Can't Be Helped](http://archiveofourown.org/series/292025) universe, but can be read as a stand-alone. It's set on Christmas Eve 2014, so it happens between _Nights and Weekends_ and _What You Need_.
> 
> Unbeta'd and barely-edited, because I wanted to post it in time for the holiday. Apologies for any mistakes or inconsistencies.

Estel's foster family was weird.

Or well, maybe they weren't. Maybe this was what real-life two-parent nuclear families were like? It's not like he would know. He didn't remember his dad, and maybe life with his mom had been pretty normal for an only child of a single parent, but he didn't have a lot of experience with this kind of thing.

They actually ate dinner at a dining room table, with the TV turned off and phones put away (no exceptions). Estel hadn't had a phone when he first came—he hadn't had one before he went into care, and even if he had, it wouldn't have made it to when he got placed with the Peredhels. He had one now, because Elrond was big on knowing where you were and when you would be home.

When everyone was home—which was not that often—it was an absolute madhouse. They weren't loud people individually, but somehow when they all came together the house filled with noise—laughter and playful arguments and impromptu musical interludes. Estel didn't dislike it, exactly, but he never quite knew what to do. He'd sit in his seat at the table and let it all wash over him, occasionally piping up when someone spoke to him. He'd been with them for three years, and he was only now starting to feel easy in the company of all of them at once.

With Elrohir and Arwen—two of the three Peredhel children—away at school, though, this was rare. More frequently, it was just Elrond and Celebrían (and Estel), and that was a little easier to deal with. They were warm, patient people, although they were both recently retired and had entirely too much time on their hands for Estel's comfort.

Even better was when Elladan joined them, his siblings absent. Elladan came around every couple of weeks; he was like the real big brother Estel had never had, young enough to be cooler than his parents but old enough to be cooler than Estel. It was clear he missed Elrohir, who was his twin, while he was away at school—but he never made Estel feel like he was just a replacement. Even when Elrohir was home, Elladan made sure to include him.

Elrohir, now—Elrohir he wasn't sure about. He was certainly friendly, but he didn't speak to Estel very much or very often. Estel had a sneaking suspicion that maybe Elrohir didn't like him, or maybe just thought he was a boring kid. (Next to the twins, especially when they were together, he _was_ just a boring kid. A boring, unattractive, weird kid who spent too much time in the woods and in the garden. But somehow he was a great deal more conscious of this when Elrohir was around.)

And last—last but _certainly_ not least—was Arwen.

Arwen was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and Estel didn't think of himself as particularly prone to exaggeration. She always dressed like she was going to a party, but maybe a casual one, like a very cool college party. Her hair was real black—not dark brown or that flat goth black but beautiful, shining blue-black. Estel had never really known what to make of it when books described someone as having a heart-shaped face until he saw Arwen. (He had a journal wherein he described these features in extensive detail, but that would do, as a quick overview.)

They would all three be here in about an hour for Christmas Eve festivities, and Estel couldn’t decide whether he was excited or anxious. He’d changed his shirt three times already—should he wear something with buttons and dress up? Elrohir always did. But which one? Or should he wear one of his t-shirts with a clever slogan on it? That was what Elladan tended towards, plus Arwen hadn’t seen a lot of his funnier ones.

He thought of Arwen and her imaginary cool college parties, considered briefly in the mirror what little he had to work with, and decided that he needed as much fancying up as he could get.

\-------------

Celebrían had smiled and told him he looked nice when he came down, but no one else noticed one way or the other.

The twins showed up together, and Arwen arrived almost on their heels; Estel got put to work carrying in presents and food, and by the time all that was sorted out someone had hooked up one of the game systems in the living room.

Elladan took a seat on the couch; Arwen and Elrohir piled onto the floor at his feet, Elrohir leaning back against his legs. That was another thing Estel found weird (though secretly appealing) about the Peredhels—they were a very touchy-feely family. He'd been hugged more in the past three years than he probably had his entire life before that; he'd been close with his mom, but she had never been a hugger. (She'd been an only child too, though, so maybe it was a consequence of having siblings. He'd have to ask Celebrían about it sometime, her being an only child too.)

He didn't actually _mind_ it, but sometimes, like now, he didn't know how to respond. He wasn't sure whether to join them on the couch, or—well, maybe he should just take the chair, it was safer—

Elladan caught his eye and smiled, tipping his head at the empty spot beside him, and Estel relaxed. He joined them, though he did tuck his feet up carefully beneath him to avoid accidentally brushing against Arwen.

"You're _always_ Peach," Elrohir was saying. "Be someone else. _Anyone_ else. Come on."

"Nope. I'm going to be Peach, and I'm going to murder the fuck out of you, and you can't stop me," Arwen returned cheerfully.

"Excuse me?" Celebrían's voice floated in from the kitchen.

"I _said_ ," Arwen called back in a theatrical voice, still smiling sweetly at her brother, "Elrohir, I am going to murder the _dickens_ out of you." Celebrían's exasperated sigh was clearly audible. Estel turned a laugh into a cough, and Arwen tipped her head back and winked at him, leaving him pleased and flustered.

The smells of roasted chicken (courtesy of Elrond) and cookies (Celebrían's doing) drifted in after awhile. Theoretically there was snow on the ground outside, though it was mostly grey slush with patches of winter-dead lawn showing through. Estel had always rolled his eyes a bit at the Hallmark-television-special version of Christmas, but with Arwen and Elrohir trash-talking over their controllers at his feet and Elrond singing some kind of 80s hair band medley in the kitchen, he could almost see the appeal. It was a little clichéd, but it was...genuine. People who liked each other getting together to trade food and presents (and, well, affectionate insults).

And maybe, just maybe...he belonged among them.

He'd spent months working on gifts. Of course, Elrond and Celebrían would insist they didn't need anything, and he couldn't give anything to Elladan and Arwen and Elrohir that was nearly as cool as what they probably got for one another, but presents were _important_ to him. He remembered being eight years old, sneaking out of bed when his mother was asleep to tuck the carefully-constructed origami animals he'd been working on all winter into her stocking, and the surprised, somewhat teary delight with which she had removed them in the morning. He knew now that they had never really been able to afford Christmas, but he hadn't been aware of it then. Gilraen had always made sure there was something under the tree for him, and so he did the same for her (even if it was only folded construction paper). That was what you did for the people you loved.

There was never a danger that _anyone_ wouldn't have something under the Peredhel family tree, of course. Still, there were five painstakingly-selected and carefully-wrapped gifts under the tree with Estel's name in the "from" space on the tag, and he was almost more excited for the unwrapping of those than for the ones with his name in the "to" space.

Celebrían wheeled herself in from the kitchen with a plate of deformed cookies in her lap, passing them to Estel. “We have to eat the ugly ones now so they don’t spoil the effect. Don’t tell Elrond I’m ruining your supper.”

Estel grinned at her and took one, handing the plate to Arwen, who mediated the dispute between her brothers about who got the biggest remaining one by taking it herself and threatening to eat the rest too.

“So, Elladan,” Celebrían said, “I thought you might have invited your girlfriend this year.”

Elrohir twisted around in surprise. “Wait, what? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!”

“She means Brennil,” Elladan muttered. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Arwen—who was out of Celebrían’s line of sight—mouthed _fuckbuddy_ at Elrohir, making him snort. Elladan kicked her somewhat vengefully, though he had to jostle Elrohir to do it, and cleared his throat. “Why don’t you ask Arwen about the guy _she’s_ seeing?”

The jab missed its mark; Arwen smiled, unbothered. “I think he’s a keeper, but don’t ask me too much, I don’t want to jinx it. If he’s still around by spring break, I’ll bring him for dinner, I promise.”

It might not have wounded Arwen, but Estel certainly felt the impact. Then again, why was he so surprised? Of course she was dating some cool college boy— _man_ —obviously she could have her pick of any of them. With a sinking feeling, he wondered if he should sneak the gift he’d put under the tree with her name on it away and try to replace it with something else, something that left his heart less transparent. She was so kind, after all, she probably wouldn’t even laugh at him. Instead, she’d feel sorry for him, which was worse.

Elrohir, still half-turned around where he sat, was giving him a curious look. Estel quickly tried to rearrange his expression into something more neutral, though he wasn’t really sure what the appropriate face for the conversation _was_. Elrohir didn’t say anything before turning his attention back to the television, but Estel didn’t feel comforted.

“Estel, can you come help me for a second?” Elrond called from the kitchen, and he extricated himself from the living room with relief, passing his controller to Elladan.

To Elrond’s disappointment, none of his boys (Estel included) shared his interest in cooking. At least, the kind you did in a kitchen; with Estel, he’d found common ground by adapting some of his recipes for a campfire. Estel could do some pretty good camp dinners now, and while he wasn’t likely to make a meal on his own in the house unless it was a special occasion, he didn’t mind being Elrond’s assistant now and again.

Elrond put him on potato- and asparagus-plating duty while he carved the chicken. Elladan joined them a few minutes later, collecting plates and silverware to set the table. “How’s school, stringbean? Rehearsals for the spring show start up soon, don’t they?”

“Fine.” Estel gave the half-shrug developed by teenagers everywhere when asked about school, a masterful blend of _don’t wanna talk about it,_ and _but not because I’m doing badly so don’t ask_. “Yeah, but they won’t need us until off-book day, and that’s not till...February I think. There’s no point trying to do light and sound cues before then because nobody knows their lines or blocking or anything, and they don’t want us to build the set too early because there’s nowhere to store it during band concerts. Ms. Inglorion just tapes off where the set pieces will go.” Elladan had never been a theater kid, but Elrohir had, so he’d always gone to the shows—and he seemed to enjoy Estel’s stories of what happened behind the scenes.

Estel _felt_ like it should be something he and Elrohir could bond over; but since he had some _opinions_ about actors (and their tendency to destroy set pieces and go off-script), and Elrohir had some _opinions_ about stage crew (and their tendency to misplace crucial props and forget lighting cues), they’d discovered some time ago that it wasn’t exactly a neutral discussion topic.

“Spring show is the musical, right? What show are they doing?” Elladan scooped a pile of napkins on top of his plate stack—way more napkins than they would need in the next, oh, week or so—then balanced the salt and pepper shakers on top of that, perhaps because he liked to live dangerously.

Estel did smile a little now. “Anything Goes. We get to build a boat deck. With a second level.”

“I’m sure the school’s lawyers are thrilled.” Elladan crossed into the dining room to start setting the table—miraculously, without dropping anything—and Estel followed, potatoes in one hand and asparagus in the other.

“We built a birdhouse in shop last year. I’m pretty sure it’s the same basic principles.”

Elladan opened his mouth to say something, then broke off in a startled bark of laughter when he realized Estel was joking. Estel glowed; he didn’t often feel witty next to Elladan, so making him laugh on purpose felt like a personal victory.

“Maybe you can put in a trapdoor for that obnoxious kid—what’s his name, the one that’s always stealing your prop crowns.”

“Denethor,” Estel said, with acute dislike. He _tried_ to be kind and friendly to everyone, but he did have his limits...and Denethor was about three miles beyond them. “Did I tell you? He’s class president this year. Halbarad thinks he stuffed the ballot box.”

Elladan handed him a serving spoon. “Well, cheer up, it’s not like student council has any real power.”

“Probably not, but it still means I have to hear his stupid voice on morning announcements every day.”

“Be the change you want to see in the world.” Elrond came in with the chicken. “You should run against him next year, Estel. I think you would do very well on student council, and it would look good to colleges.”

Elladan rolled his eyes expansively, but only because Elrond wasn’t looking at him. Estel didn’t find it annoying the way he did, just...misguided. It was really better if he just kept his head down at school. “I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”

“You underestimate yourself. You’re hardworking and determined, and your instincts are good—”

“ _Dad_. It’s Christmas Eve, give the kid a break.” Elladan threw a balled-up napkin at Elrond, who laughed and held up his hands in surrender.

“I was just saying, he’s a good kid. He can do anything he puts his mind to.” Elrond squeezed Estel’s shoulder, and Estel relaxed a little and smiled back. He’d been afraid for a moment that Elrond was going to bring up his father; awhile back Estel had told him some of what his mom had shared, and what he’d learned from old photo albums and the internet. His dad had started a company at nineteen—apparently a fairly successful one, though it had been small and hadn’t survived his death. Estel didn’t think he’d inherited the leadership genes. Nineteen was only two years away, and he could hardly imagine starting a club, never mind a company.

Still, something in him glowed at Elrond’s praise, even if he was way off the mark.

Dinner was about as tumultuous as expected. Their post-dinner Christmas Eve tradition was to open one small present, which always sparked a good deal of negotiation over which packages were off-limits, which were mislabeled, and who got to choose for whom. Estel let the cheerful conversation wash over him, and felt surprisingly at peace.

He always thought about his mom this time of year—well, of course he did. Christmas before the Peredhels had just been the two of them; hot chocolate and whatever Christmas movie was on the television the night before, sleeping on the couch to try and catch Santa in the act (and never succeeding—Gilraen always managed to sneak a present under the artificial tree and dispose of the milk and cookies without Estel waking up).

When he thought of her this morning, it hadn’t been a—a punch to the gut, the way it had been last Christmas. It wasn’t that he was forgetting, or thinking about her less. The opposite, actually—it seemed like she had been more on his mind over the course of the year, but...in a different way. (Or maybe it was just because he could think of her without drowning in misery now, so he was less careful to avoid it.) He’d certainly talked about her more with his foster-parents this year; somehow it felt less like a betrayal to share her memory than it once had.

Maybe because he knew now that they would keep it safe.

At any rate, sitting here at the table, with Arwen and Elladan bickering merrily about whether walnuts belonged in brownies and Elrond trying patiently—but unsuccessfully—to redirect everyone to talking about what they were thankful for this year instead (“We did that at Thanksgiving!” “You can be thankful twice in one year, you ungrateful walnut-apologist!” “I’m thankful for living states away from my siblings…”) Estel realized something.

This was his family. Not a replacement for his mom, just... _more_ family. It didn’t have to be one or the other. Maybe Elrohir would never like him, maybe Arwen would only ever see him as a quiet scruffy kid, but...somehow, he still felt like he belonged here.

Elladan set a package down in front of Estel and dropped down onto the couch next to him, shaking him out of his reverie. It seemed the negotiations had concluded; or at least, everyone had something to open. Elrohir crowded in on Elladan’s other side, and there was some brief good-natured jostling before they settled and turned expectant looks on Estel.

“Youngest starts,” prompted Arwen. “Go for it, Estel.”

The small box was from the twins, but Celebrían had probably done the wrapping—it was much too tidy to be their work. He tore into it, lighting up when he saw it was a GPS compass.

“So you can go off-trail without Mom fretting about it,” Elladan said with a grin. Estel was already thinking of the new places they might let him camp with the extra assurance of GPS navigation.

Arwen was next-youngest and therefore next in line to open. Estel, balling up his discarded wrapping paper, didn’t realize until she had already started opening it that the gift in front of her was his. He froze, his heart pounding, as she lifted the lid from the little box.

“They’re duck feathers,” he said quickly, by way of explanation. “Um, mallard duck. They’re legal to have, I made sure, and I washed them carefully so they should be fine—” He had a sizeable collection of molted feathers. The iridescent ones always reminded him of the sheen on Arwen’s black hair; he had painstakingly picked out the prettiest ones, trimmed and tied them into a pair of earrings. “I know you like things that are cruelty-free, these are all found, nothing died to make them. I mean, I don’t know if they died later, obviously, they’re wild birds, but—”

Arwen beamed at him, already halfway through putting the earrings on, and his tongue failed him. “These are awesome, Estel. Thank you.”

He completely missed what the twins opened. He was too busy floating, somewhere in the atmosphere.

Estel tuned back in just in time for Celebrían and Elrond to open their matching coffee mugs, which he had carefully decorated with Sharpie as per a tutorial online. “Come over here and hug me,” Celebrían said, and he obliged without feeling even a little self-conscious.

After that things broke up a little. Arwen and Elrohir were staying the night, which meant Elladan was too. Estel had volunteered to take the couch so the twins could have his room, but Elladan waved him off and said they could act like kids again and camp in the den. It was early yet, but Celebrían was ready to retire, so she and Elrond said goodnight while Elladan pulled out the sleeper couch and began building a pillow fort with the cushions. Elrohir was already making a pile of Christmas movies for the four of them to watch.

Estel slipped out onto the back porch. He liked the cold weather, and he needed a moment of quiet; no one would mind as long as he didn’t stay out too long. He figured the amount of time it would take for him to start shivering without a coat was just about right. The air smelled like snow, though nothing was falling, and the dusting that had been on the railing earlier had melted and refrozen into halfhearted icicles.

He had only been out for a minute or two when the door opened. At first he thought it was Elladan, but then the figure crossed into a square of light from the window and he realized it was Elrohir instead. Estel turned towards him, expecting to be summoned for something or other, but Elrohir didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he joined Estel, leaning against the railing and looking out over the backyard.

“So,” he said softly, after several moments of quiet, “Arwen, huh?”

Estel froze. He’d never had siblings, but TV had led him to understand that big brothers were fiercely protective of their little sisters. He wondered if he was about to have the fear of God put into him, metaphorically speaking. Elrohir would certainly have a point—it wasn’t like he had any real business pursuing someone like Arwen. Then again, Elrohir probably didn’t have anything to worry about. It wasn’t as if she was likely to give him a second look, earrings or no earrings.

Estel glanced over at him, apprehensively, but Elrohir wasn’t even looking at him. He was gazing out towards the woods behind the house. When he did turn towards Estel, it was with a smile that looked strangely—sympathetic.

“I’d tell you what a pain in the ass she can be, if I thought it would help, but.” He shouldered Estel in a friendly way, and Estel was so surprised he nearly lost his balance. “Love and logic don’t really stick together. You keep thinking the sun shines out of their ass, even when you know better.”

Something in his tone made Estel hesitate before speaking. Tentatively, he offered, “You seem to know a lot about it.”

“Yeah,” Elrohir agreed, with a rueful grin. “Believe me, I get it.”

“Does it get easier?”

Elrohir snorted. “Not yet, but I’ll let you know.” And, despite the conversation, they grinned at one another.

The conversation lapsed, and they stood there for another long moment. The quiet seemed more friendly now. For the first time, it occurred to Estel that Elrohir might be more like him than like his twin; that his silences might indicate a quiet nature rather than disapproval. He was certainly more comfortable talking to Elladan—why wouldn’t Elrohir feel the same way?

Elrohir didn’t hate him, and Arwen liked his earrings. It was turning out to be a surprising night. Of all things to bond over, he didn’t expect it to be unrequited love, but...anything was a start. He wondered who Elrohir was thinking of, who could possibly be out of his league, but he figured it was out of bounds to ask.

At last, Elrohir clapped him gently on the shoulder and made to go inside. “Come in soon, you have to help me vote Elladan down on watching the Grumpy Cat movie. Arwen’s refusing to vote.”

“Elrohir—” He hoped it wasn’t rude to ask, but he had to make sure. “Can you not tell Elladan?”

Elrohir paused, his hand on the doorknob, and smiled again. “Believe it or not, there are a lot of things I don’t tell Elladan. Nobody’s going to find out from me, kid, I promise.” After a moment, he added, “You might want to work on your poker face, though.”

Estel’s blush was lost in the darkness. He was probably red-cheeked from the cold, anyway. He stayed out for another minute just to be sure, then pulled the door open, going back inside to his family.


End file.
